


apartment 5f

by sleeplessandcynical



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Fluff, No Sex, Other, POV First Person, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and awkward flirting like whoa, author drank too much tequila this weekend and is coping by writing disgustingly cute things, cruiserweights, gender-neutral oc, just smooching, look he's just real cute and has great hair okay, text message romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 11:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10535691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeplessandcynical/pseuds/sleeplessandcynical
Summary: The narrator's friend sets them up with an old high school buddy who turns out to be very familiar. Much squishiness results. Just a lil mushy one-shot because I am a hungover, overcompensating, recently-dumped grouch with a crush.Soundtrack: the Bouncing Souls - Anchors Aweigh - "Apartment 5F"





	

_stayin out all night_  
_lookin' for something i'll never find_  
_i'm fighting with myself  
_ _and i'm losing control of my mind_

* * *

  **Ping!**   _Still with me, gorgeous?_

I shook the sleep out of my eyes and grinned at my phone for about the five hundredth time in the last day. I had dozed off on the couch for a brief moment, only to be awakened by the quiet chirp of my phone's notifications.

* * *

I still couldn't believe that even this _conversation_ was happening. I had gone through the breakup to end all breakups five months prior and one of the goals I'd set for myself was to compensate for how isolated my ex had made me over the previous four years. In other words, I was gonna make _friends._  I was gonna go on _dates_. I was gonna _meet people_ and have _fun_  even if it _killed_ me, dammit.

An old friend had sent me an email earlier in the week saying that a buddy of his, from high school or something, was crashing at his apartment while on vacation, and that he thought we might get along. He asked if he could pass along my number, adding only, "I think he might be just what you need. Whatever that is." I agreed, because why the hell not, and a couple of days later, as I was frying eggs on a sunny Saturday, my phone pinged with an unknown number.

And that's how I met Mr. Ali: his initial overture a handsome but serious-faced selfie, accompanied by a note: _Hey, this is Mustafa. Daniel gave me your number since I don't know anybody in town and he's at work all the time. I hope that's okay?_

I dropped my phone on the kitchen floor near the stove, tripped over the dog, and almost set my hair on fire in my haste to pick it up again.  _Mustafa Ali? Are you fucking **kidding** me? _Scrambling to get the somehow-uncracked screen back in my grubby little hands, I opened the to-do list and wrote: _"_ Kick Dan's ass for not telling me his buddy is a fucking superstar." That calmed me down a little, at least.

Shit. _Fuck._ As well-established by tv and the internet, he was cute. But this was _really_ cute. All deep-set eyes and broad shoulders and perfect fade and stubbly jawline and skin a little darker than mine that looked so soft I wanted to reach out and pet my phone. _Whoa there, self. I know you haven’t talked to a cute guy in, like, seven thousand years, but try that breathing thing first._

I must have spent ten minutes trying to take a return picture that was at least semi-flattering and without my default Resting Murder Face; it's a little at odds with my personality, which has been described as "painfully good-natured" (and not just by my mom). Eventually I settled on the one that felt most genuine, at least: crooked smile, one goofy raised eyebrow, mop of side-parted curls spilling over my forehead, my own fade shaggy and out of control.

_Mustafa! So glad to hear from you, although I'm gonna kill Daniel for not telling me who it was ahead of time. Can't pretend I'm not a huge fan of your work! I hope you're enjoying the city so far._

**Ping!** _Thank you, that's so sweet! Well, he told me all about you. Why do you think it took me three days to work up the nerve to text? :)_

 _That bad, eh?_ I responded out of habit.

 **Ping!** _Never, never, never! He sang your praises so highly I wasn't sure I even deserved to have your number in the first place._

At first it had been the standard getting-to-know-you blurb: work, hobbies, good-naturedly complaining about our mutual pal. I did chores, he did touristy shit with Daniel, and we swapped increasingly goofy selfies and all-important memes.

He sent me a video of him and Daniel trying to climb on top of some monument in the big city park, captioned “Wish you were here.” I sent him a video of my dog yelling at a pigeon through the kitchen window. It was the best I could do on short notice.  

We had decided several hours before to meet up for a friendly brunch, and that maybe I would take him to a few of my favorite spots around the city, but even after that “Great! I’ll see you tomorrow!,” somehow we just never stopped talking. The hours flew by as we laughed, blushed, shared secrets and embarrassing photos, made new inside jokes.

Reading people keeps me safe, and while I tend to err on the side of _very_ overly cautious, my other goal for this new life stage was learning to trust my instincts. I'm not perfect, but I'm pretty damn good, and all I read from him was wonder. Sweetness, kindness, and genuine compassion. He talked about his family a lot, with this undercurrent of ferocity and devotion that made me miss my own from several states away.  

I knew I’d been alone, and I knew I’d been lonely. This? This was like being punched in the heart in a way I wasn't sure I could still feel at my age and _man_ , was it ever nice.

* * *

I realized I had zoned out again and rubbed my eyes before grabbing my phone. Thank god I had stayed on the couch, because if I were in bed I would have passed out ages ago out of pure habit. It occurred to me for the first time that it was actually late enough to be _quiet_ here; even my extremely weird but equally good-natured upstairs neighbors had quit dancing to “Gangnam Style” on repeat and finally gone to bed.

_Tryin! I had to take my contacts out and now I can barely read the screen. Worth it, though. :)_

**Ping!**   _I'm sorry, I'm keeping you up. Do you need to get to bed? I totally understand._

Of course he understood. Because he was the nicest human being on the face of the fucking planet and if I said, “Fuck off, I’m going to sleep,” he wouldn’t even bat an eyelash.  

 **Ping!** _I just wanted to ask you something first._

I scrabbled for my eyedrops, first knocking them off the side table and then doing an embarrassingly slow fall from couch to floor as I tried to keep them from rolling under the furniture. I texted him back sprawled across the hardwood, saying a quiet thank-you prayer that there were no witnesses.

_No, it's fine, I promise! The rest of me is okay, my eyeballs are just staging a coup. But ask away._

**Ping!** _So um, about tomorrow, I know we made plans, but I really feel like there's something going on here. And... It's great. Really great. I don't want to change anything, I just..._

 **Ping!** _Ugh I'm bad at this. Can tomorrow be a date?_

I could practically hear him holding his breath via text message. I personally was about four seconds away from blushing myself to death.

_I'm sorry, I know I'm having trouble reading but I think I must be seeing things. Did you just ask me out? Me?_

**Ping!** _I was trying to! I mean, if you're going to say yes, that is. If you're not, then this never happened. Ahem._

Included was a selfie, big brown eyes looking innocently off to the side, one stray cowlick of hair making a break for it.

I calmly set my phone on the side table, got up off the floor, and silently fist-pumped for about ten seconds before forcing myself to pull it together and respond.

_Well in that case: yes yes yes yes yes. Although now I am officially too psyched to sleep. I might go blind first._

**Ping!** _If you're up to it, I could call you. Save your eyes the trouble. Unless that's weird. Is it weird?_

I sent him a picture of a velociraptor.

_...Clever boy._

I had barely set my phone down again before it buzzed.  _Incoming Call._ That face taking up my screen. I swiped without a second thought.

"Hey handsome." My voice was quiet, but my accent dragged everything out the way it always did when it was late.

"...Oh, wow, you do sound tired. Wait. That is NOT how I wanted to start this conversation, I'm sorry!" Can you  _hear_ someone blush over the phone? Because I swear I did.

He had the most beautiful voice. I closed my eyes. Confident without being abrasive or brash, soft in a way that sent a little shiver up my spine.

I laughed. "Well I am, a little. It's, you know, past our bedtimes and all."

"Fair enough. I keep thinking I should be totally exhausted but every time I see your face in my notifications I get excited and I can't wait to look."

Now it was _my_ turn to blush through the phone. "That's awful sweet of you, mister," I drawled. "And I totally understand. As long as you're awake and as long as Dan isn't going to lecture you for talking on the phone while he's asleep, I could keep this up all night."

And we did. Somehow his voice made it even easier and we just flowed effortlessly back and forth like old friends. _Or old lovers._ I tried to stomp that thought down before it even got started.

"I probably should have asked you this earlier, but where are you? I know Daniel moved a few weeks back but I haven't been to the new place yet."

He told me the cross streets, something and Malcolm X, and I lost my words.

"No shit."

"Why? Is that bad? I know Dan likes terrible neighborhoods but this place seems nice enough."

"No, no, it is nice! It's that I live off Malcolm X too." I did sleepy math in my head. "Fifteen blocks."

"Hm?"

"That's how far you are from me right at this instant, mister. Fifteen blocks. A mile and a half, straight shot north from here."

"That's it? Wow. I can practically  _see_ you from the window. Nice pajamas, by the way."

"Creeper. And you ain't seen nothing yet."

"If that's true, you might be the death of me. And what a way to go." I heard his smile as he spoke the last few words, and then he grew quiet again.

"Seriously, I'm going to buy Dan a fruit basket or something, because I don't think I've ever had this much fun getting to know someone before. Like, ever.” Before I could wake up enough to think it through, it just slipped out. “I really like you."

He responded immediately, as though he’d been waiting for the chance. "I like you too.” Deep breath. “Like, 'could kiss you right now' like you."

I closed my eyes in a big and complex rush of emotion. "Fuck it. God, I _want_ to kiss you."

His voice was still soft but with an edge of seriousness to it as he breathed out, “I want to kiss you too." 

I tried hard not to shiver and mostly succeeded, drawling, "Well, darlin', tomorrow you have every permission in the world to kiss me, unless you can't wait that long."

I meant it as a joke, but as soon as the words left my mouth, I realized _I_ didn't want to wait that long.

"What if I... What if we just start walking?"

"Hm?"

He spoke quickly, in a burst of enthusiasm and nerves. "You said it yourself. Fifteen blocks. That's all that's keeping me from seeing you right now. I know you said earlier you don't give out your address to strangers and stuff, so what if we both just start walking down Malcolm X? You go north, I go south. We have to run into each other eventually."

"Mustafa, it's 4:30 in the morning -"

"I know, it's ridiculous, I'm sorry. Forget I suggested it."

"No, let me finish, please. It's 4:30 in the morning and there is literally _nothing_ I want more than to see your face and I think that's a brilliant fucking idea. If I'm going to be awake and talking to you, which I am enjoying every second of, the only way it could be better would be if I could look at you."

Another long pause. Another held breath.

"I'm leaving now." I heard him shuffling something around and then a zip. _Oh shit he's putting his coat on right this very second he's totally serious about this_

"But if you leave now then I have to leave now and I'm in my pajamas and I look like shit -" I started scrambling around my apartment crashing into things trying to find my shoes and fluff my hair into some semblance of order and _oh god should I put on perfume or is that too obvious and I really need to shower but then my hair would freeze and I'm literally wearing pizza-print sweatpants and I'm covered in dog hair and and and -_

"If you're worried about what I think, please don't. First off, you don't have to do this, and second off, I already think you're beautiful and literally all I care about is seeing your face. Besides, you should see my hair right now, you're not the only one worried about making a first impression. We're in this ridiculousness together."

I stopped dead in my tracks and took a deep breath.

This was it, whatever "it" was. Did I want this?

More than _anything_.

I finally forced myself to speak. "I bet you're perfect. Just let me get my coat. Tell you what, since you probably walk way faster than me: if you get to the park, wait there for me."

"I can't wait. See you soon."

"Before you know it." I hung up the phone and stood quietly for a moment, then jumped up and down in the middle of my living room until I woke up the dog (but fortunately not my neighbors). Just like all serious grown-ups do. You know how it goes.

She glared at me. "Sorry, babydog. Gotta do a thing. Go back to sleep." She huffed at me and didn't even try to get up as I swapped my pajama pants for jeans and put my coat on. Too early or late for an excitable small dog is definitely too early or late indeed.

Out of habit, I put my headphones in, and my get-hyped-morning-commute playlist kicked in as I locked the door and bolted down four flights of stairs.

 _i reached out in anger_  
_i reached out in love_  
_i lived a life of self-abuse  
_ _i prayed to the heavens above_

* * *

I almost missed him in the dark, walking too fast. He had stopped at the park and had his back to the sidewalk, hands buried deep in the pockets of the black canvas jacket that was absorbing the trickle of light from the streetlamp. His hair was combed back and still slightly damp.

He was also sitting on top of the swingset. I grinned. 

He must've heard my Converse scuff on the sidewalk, because he turned around, and I watched all the tension melt out of his face and shoulders when he recognized me. It quickly turned to confusion as I bolted for the the playground's nearby log cabin, using the steps, windowsill, and low-pitched roof to give me some height. 

I paused, bit my lip in thought, then grabbed the top crossbar with my left hand before hopping my ass up, somehow making it, and sliding across like a kid going down a stair railing to land a foot or so from his right shoulder. _Smoooooth_.

"Hey," I said quietly, trying and mostly failing to stop kicking my feet.

"Hey you," he murmured back, _completely_ failing to hide his grin, and leaned to bump our shoulders together. "Didn't really peg you as the parkour type."

"Old habit. Spent a lot of time hiding in trees as a kid. Mom used to say I was a wood sprite. Let me guess - you powered your way up with your, like, height and upper body strength and all that boring shit?"

"Busted." He raised his eyebrows and looked away, feigning innocence. Good sweet _sin,_ he had the best smile.

"Well, some of us have to improvise because we're not actual human paladins." I stuck out my tongue.

"Wouldn't that particular skillset make me more of a ranger? I think? It's been a while." He raised his eyebrows at me, and it was so goddamn _cute_ I had to cover my mouth to hide what I knew was a frankly ridiculous grin.

"...Nerd." 

"Didn't you _run_ aD &D club in college?"

"Yeah, and the part I left out of that story was that I got kicked out for cold-cocking a dude who wouldn't stop trying to cop a feel under the table."

He shook his head. "And I thought you couldn't get any more perfect. Or lovely, until I saw you in glasses."

I felt the nerves, joy, and resultant laughter bubbling up inside me and I couldn't do anything to stop it except hang on to the crossbar and hope I didn't break my face.

While my balance was fairly steady, Mustafa reached out and caught my arm. "Just in case," he said, moving a little closer, and I thought he  _must_ be able to feel my pounding heart through those layers of fabric because it seemed to be vibrating the air.

A shiver ran through me that wasn't just from the cold, and he took that as his cue to hop effortlessly to the ground. "Do you need a hand?"

Never let it be said that I am anything other than stubborn. "Nope!"

"Are you sure -" he began, but I had already launched myself off the crossbar. I actually stuck the landing, bent low to absorb the extra several inches I had to travel due to my lack of height, but was so surprised by my own success that I started laughing again. Before I knew it, I lost my balance and face-planted into the mulch in a ball. Ouch. 

Mustafa was there in a flash, gently guiding me to my feet and picking errant woodchips out of my curls as I brushed myself off. I turned my face up to him for the first time, prepared with a self-effacing joke about the indignity of my situation, and found myself completely and utterly speechless. 

He took a step back, looked me up and down, and favored me with a crooked smile. "That bad?"

I finally caught my breath long enough to cough out, "I can't believe we actually did this. You're ten times prettier in real life, and that shouldn't even be possible."

"Hey, that's my line." That smile _again_. "I think your laugh might actually top it, though."

The blood pounding in my ears clearly wasn't getting to my brain, because I was _not_ thinking. "So you gonna kiss me, or did I freeze my ass off out here for nothin'?"

He looked around, wide-eyed with pretend shock. "Is it cold? I hadn't noticed."

"Fucking Chicago boys. We get it, you're all masochists -"

He interrupted by stepping close and pulling me into a hug, wrapping his jacket around me as I folded my arms in close to his chest. He smelled like coffee and toothpaste and something woodsy and mild that made my brain short-circuit. The touch of his stubbled cheek to my temple was heavenly. 

He leaned back just enough to make eye contact, our noses nearly touching, and gave me what I assumed was supposed to be a skeptical glare. "You're not even that cold! You're like a space heater under there!"

I pressed my palms to his chest and gave him my best return glare, which was not very good. "Then why can't I stop shaking?"

In response, he kissed me, so soft and sweet that I might have thought I was dreaming, except a few strands of hair escaped when he tilted his head down and brushed over my forehead.

 _Oh_.

Instinctively, I reached up to push them back, and I felt the rumble of his laugh against my lips before he kissed me for the second time. I stood on my tiptoes and threw my arms around his neck, and he laughed again, fixing me with those eyes.

"Does that mean I should keep going?" he asked, leaning in to speak quietly against my mouth, but I beat him to the punch this time. As I settled in like I’d been there all my life, he wrapped one long arm around my waist and brought the other up to settle on the back of my neck, interweaving his fingers with my curls and tracing abstract patterns on my scalp. His hands were warm and soft and _heavenly,_ and my brain hopped frantically between the wonderful sensations his touch and body and mouth had to offer before just deciding to accept the whole damned thing as my joyous new reality.

As I had somehow known before we even got to this point, Mustafa was not a man who was in a hurry. He was slow and cautious and I was lost and I couldn’t even tell you for how long because it just didn’t matter. Every time we pulled each other close again, it seemed to last for minutes, and it was about so much more than the simplicity of lips – holding his face in my hands, his palms sliding down to my hips and then pressing broad strokes up the length of my back.

There is literally nothing better in this world than feeling someone smile while you’re kissing them.

When I finally came up for air, he hugged me so close I swore I could feel his heartbeat, and his voice was in my ear like a secret, making me shake again. “I don’t want to keep you out all night. I mean, I do, but, you know.”

"Well, it’s a little late for that, darlin’. But we do have a date in, like, seven hours. You might want to get some sleep." 

"I could." He sat down on a swing, and held out his hand. "Or we could watch the sunrise first."

He was right - the lower third of the sky had turned a rainbow of greys, purples, and reds, and it was astonishingly beautiful. Almost as nice as my current view of his tired and happy face in the blooming light.

I sat down in the next swing over, and tangled our fingers together.

"No place on Earth I'd rather be." 

 

 _i just want to be happy_  
_with the way things are_  
_just wanna look up at the sky at night_  
_appreciate the stars_


End file.
